


Let the Good Times Roll

by amorluzymelodia



Series: Snapshots [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: 13x23, Let the Good Times Roll, Self Harm Scars, Spoilers for Season 13, TW: Self Harm, Tattoos, cursing, mentions of self harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-19
Updated: 2018-05-19
Packaged: 2019-05-08 19:47:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14700978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amorluzymelodia/pseuds/amorluzymelodia
Summary: This is part one in my Snapshots Series. Sometimes the episodes leave me wanting more, and I come up with small ideas or scenes involving the reader that I write out and figured I would post some of them. They will (usually) not be more than one part. But let's be real, it's me so I may end up running with it! Let me know what you think, or if you have an idea for a Snapshot!This is a snapshot from 13x23. NOT SPOILER FREE!The reader catches up to Jack after he leaves the gas station, they bond over shared pain.





	Let the Good Times Roll

“I’m sorry.” Jack breathed and raced out of the gas station. Cas called after him and made to follow but Dean held him back.

 “No, hey, just—just let him go.” Dean said but Cas met your gaze and you nodded.

You and Jack had had a connection since he was born. Perhaps it was because you were younger than the Winchesters, easier to talk to than Cas, and you’d jumped into hunting not long ago, just like him. But there was something else about him that you felt drawn too. It wasn’t romantic, it wasn’t sexual. It was…protective. Familial. You knew the boys had told Jack that he was a part of his family, and you knew he trusted them but the return of Lucifer—his “real” father—had thrown him for a loop, and you couldn’t blame him. It was natural for him to want to connect with his father, and decide for himself what he thought of him. While it was difficult for you to watch that happen after all Lucifer had done—to you, to the Winchesters, to Cas, to _humanity_ —you couldn’t begrudge Jake the chance to learn for himself, and you would damn well be there when the other shoe dropped. Because you had no doubt that it would.

You raced after Jack, following him down a path into the woods and found him pacing distractedly. He was muttering under his breath as he walked and as you got closer you were able to catch some of it.

“You keep hurting people!” you heard him mutter, followed by a smack. “You.” _Smack_.” Keep.” _Smack_. “Hurting…” _smack, smack._ “…why do you keep hurting people?!”

What was happening quickly clicked in your brain and your heart sunk. Jack was _hitting_ himself because he had hurt people. He was intentionally punishing himself for things that he felt were his fault, even if they were on accident. The two of you had talked about how his powers were getting stronger, and controlling them would be difficult, but he had been doing so well, and you’d been proud of him. Though the time in the alternate reality had taken its toll on him, and you knew he felt like he had let those people down, he was working so hard on trying to get better, and you were so, so proud of him for that. The fact that he was hurting himself broke your heart and before he could strike himself again you raced up and grabbed his wrist.

He jolted when you touched him, obviously too wrapped up in his own head to notice that you’d followed him. His entire body tensed but once he noticed it was you, he calmed down slightly, but the tears kept flowing freely as he stared at you.

“Jack, stop.” you whispered and pulled him into a hug.

At first, Jack had been hesitant to physical touch, but over time the human side of him seemed to realize it needed that contact and he’d grown accustomed to touching you quite often, more than likely just holding your hand, or touching your shoulder as he passed you, even just gently laying a hand on yours while you were talking. It was always gentle and platonic and kind, but now it was like he was holding on for dear life, gripping the back of your jacket tightly. Jack cried into your shoulder for a moment before he pulled back, his eyes red and his breathing heavy.

“Why am I like this?” he asked desperately, and you had the feeling he wasn’t even asking it of you, but of the universe. “Why can’t I just be _good_?”

“Jack, you _are_ good.” Though he shook his head at your words, you had to try and convey this to him. “No, you are!”

“I keep hurting people, Y/N!” he cried. “I just keep… _hurting people_!” almost as though he couldn’t control it, his fist punched into his chest again, and you grabbed his arm before he could deliver a second blow.

“That doesn’t mean you deserve to hurt yourself!”

Jack looked puzzled at your words, and his gaze dropped from you to his hand, still balled in a fist, almost as though the realization of what he was doing was setting in for the first time.

“Doesn’t it?” the complete and utter dejection in his tone made you want to pull him in close and protect him from anything and everything that would dare hurt him, especially if that something was himself.

Gently, you put your hands on either side of his face. “Definitely not.”

“But I did something wrong,” he argued. “I should be punished for that. I…I _have_ to make it right.”

“Hurting yourself won’t make anything right.” You said quietly, and your soft tone seemed to be helping him calm down. You dropped your hands from his face but he kept his hands on your elbows, almost seeming to need the contact to ground himself.

“How do you know that?” that question broke your heart.

In response, you rolled up the sleeve of your shirt and held out your left forearm.

“Because it didn’t work for me.”

Jack took in the dozens of perfect white lines that littered your forearm, some thicker and longer than others, some still slightly raised, some covered by your anti-possession tattoo that you’d gotten years back. Wordlessly, Jack lightly stroked his fingers over the scars and the tattoo, transfixed.

“Did…did you do that to yourself?” he asked in shock, gaze meeting yours and you nodded.

“Whenever I couldn’t save someone, whenever I felt worthless, hopeless, or like a failure. The pain grounded me, it was like a punishment I gave myself, a reminder that I had to do better next time.”

“And did you?” he asked. “Do better?”

You grinned and nodded. “I did. But not because of these,” you touched the scars. “Not because I hurt myself. But because I had my family behind me the whole way, helping me get better.”

“Sam and Dean.” It wasn’t a question, but you nodded anyway.

“And Cas. Jody. Donna. They all helped me see that just because I messed up doesn’t mean I deserve to hurt. My failures don’t define me. Sure, I fucked up, and I’ll probably fuck up again, but I can learn from those mistakes, and use them to know what to do better next time. And failing doesn’t make me any less of a good person, it doesn’t mean I didn’t try, that I can’t keep trying. It just means I’m human, and that I get to learn.”

Jack sighed. “But I’m _not_ human.”

“And that may make your failures feel bigger than ours,” you agreed. “But they aren’t. No one—humans, angels or demons—are perfect. Hell, we’ve seen that firsthand. We’re all gonna fuck up, but it makes it a whole lot less scary to fall when you know your family will be there to help you stand up again.”

Jack let out a long breath and pulled you into a hug again. You buried your face in his chest and held him tightly.

“I love you, Jack. I wish I could take all this pain and guilt from you. But know that I’m here, we’re all here, for you every step of the way. Whether you fail or not, okay?”

You felt him nod and you pulled back and kissed his cheek. He wiped the tears from his face.

“When did you stop?” he asked and you smiled, touching the tattoo on your forearm.

“Three years ago.” You said proudly. “I got this tattoo when I was two years clean. It reminds me that I’m stronger than my failures, and that I can overcome anything. It’s a reminder that no matter what, as long as I keep fighting, and I have my family on my side, things will be okay.”

Jack smiled and ran his fingers over the tattoo again and the two of you stood there in a comfortable silence for a moment before he spoke again.

“Can I have a minute alone?” he asked shyly. “I just…” he trailed off but he didn’t need to finish for you to understand. There was so much going on, it was only natural that he’d need some time to sort through his thoughts.

You nodded and told him you’d meet him back at the car. Although when you headed back to the gas station you were met with Sam, Dean and Cas sprinting out of it, with an angry archangel following close behind.

**Author's Note:**

> A/N:
> 
> Thank you for reading! This scene really hit home for me, as I've struggled with self harm for years, and I felt for Jack in that moment. This idea just came to me and I went with it.
> 
> Also...the part where the reader tells Jack about her tattoo and the scars is actually from my own personal experience. I have an anti-possession tattoo on top of my self harm scars, and got it when I was 2 years clean. 
> 
> I actually got to tell Jared that story in Hawaii last year (I'll link a full version of that story below) and I'm still reeling from it. 
> 
> If you struggle with self-harm please seek out help, and know that you are not alone.
> 
> Always Keep Fighting!
> 
> Abby
> 
> http://amorluzymelodia.tumblr.com/post/170463161708/supernatural-storytime


End file.
